Soul Juices
by linetime
Summary: Slash, lemon! SpongeBob and Patrick are trying to have a cool sleepover but that doesn't really happen. It's pretty gross.


It was a dark but not stormy night. It was cloudy, yes, but not raining. SpongeBob had invited Patrick over for a sleepover. They'd fooled around for much of the evening, but it was getting late and boring. And by fooling around I mean just hanging out, not banging.

"This is getting boring!" said Patrick. "We're just sitting around and hanging out. When are we gonna do something cool?"

"I dunno!" said SpongeBob. "You wanna play Truth or Dare? THAT'S COOL!"

"What are we, twelve? That's only cool if you're twelve, SpongeBob."

"WOW PATRICK! I didn't know you could count to twelve!" said SpongeBob. "What do the cool kids do then?"

"I know what they do." Patrick pointed to SpongeBob's waist. "Take off your belt."

SpongeBob did as he was told like a good boy and took off his belt. But not for banging, sorry. "IT'S OFF! Now what, Patrick?"

"Now wrap it around your neck and pull."

"WHAT! !" said SpongeBob. He was shocked enough for two exclamation points. "That'll choke me to death!"

"No, SpongeBob! You stop right before you die and it feels GREEEEEAT. Trust me."

Even though it was clearly a BRILLIANT idea, SpongeBob had some doubts and was too afraid to try. "I have some doubts," he said. "And I'm too afraid to try."

"Fine, I'll show you!" Patrick took the belt and wrapped it around his neck. He pulled the end which tightened it like a noose. His eyes bugged out and his face turned purple. "FEEEEEELS GREEEEEAT!" he said whilst strangling himself.

"GOLLY!" said SpongeBob. He was quite confused.

By the way, Patrick was an idiot and did not know how to properly auto-asphyxiate himself. So his body fell limp, his tongue rolled out, and his eyes turned into X's.

SpongeBob did not like the look of those X's. "PATRICK! Are you all right! I don't like the look of those X's!"

He took out a magic marker and tried to draw over them with circles. But it wasn't magic enough!

"OH NEPTUNE!" said SpongeBob. He was crying. "I think he's dead! My sleepover is ruined!"

He lowered his head out of solemnness. "Goodnight, sweet prince." (That's a line from Shakespeare in case you didn't know.) "At least you went out being super cool," said SpongeBob. (That one too.)

All of a sudden the air turned into swirling, green cloudy circles. Thunder clashed even though it wasn't even a stormy night. From the whirling vortex came a green, bearded figure. He wailed a ghoulish cry as more thunder boomed. You all know who it is.

"Fl-fl-flying Dutchman!" said SpongeBob as he wet his pants in fear. "You're in my house!"

"ARRRRGH! I'm the Flying Dutchman!" he said even though it was already established. "I'm here for your soul!"

"NEPTUNE!" said SpongeBob, thoroughly scared.

"Neptune can't help you anymore!"

"Well, he helps those who help themselves."

"Wait a minute, I'm not even talking to you." The Flying Dutchman pointed to Patrick's limp body. "I meant to say all that to chubsy over there."

"NOT CHUBSY!" said SpongeBob, cradling his fat friend's corpse in his arms.

"Hahahahaha, YES!" the Dutchman laughed evilly. "His soul belongs to me now!" He reached inside Patrick (but not for banging, you need to be patient) and pulled out pickle-shaped soul, dripping with soul juices. He stuffed it in his little soul bag and patted it. "There we are."

"Please don't take Patrick's soul, Mr. Flying Dutchman!" said SpongeBob who was still crying like a baby. "He didn't mean to kill himself! He was just trying to be cool!"

"Then he can be cool IN HELL! I mean DAVY JONES' LOCKER! Whatever we're calling it these days!"

"No, please! Give him another chance! I'm begging you!" begged SpongeBob. "I do ANYTHING!"

"_Anything?" _said the Dutchman italically.

"ANYTHING!"

The Flying Dutchman unbuckled his own belt. "I think you know where this is going."

SpongeBob swallowed and lowered his head solemnly again. "Yes. I get it. The ultimate sacrifice. An eye for an eye, an soul for an soul to be an hero. The answer is yes, I will strangle myself to death and give you my soul in exchange for Patrick's."

"What? I'm taking off my belt for banging."

"Banging? Oh, like how ghosts bang on walls and rattle chains and stuff like that?"

"No, like me dropping anchor in your poopdeck. And maybe finishing off on your stomach."

"I don't understand!" said SpongeBob the virgin.

"ARRRGH! I'LL SHOW YOU!"

The Flying Dutchman pushed SpongeBob over onto his stomach. Actually he pushed him onto Patrick's body too, because his ample flesh made for a good cushion. SpongeBob looked back as the Dutchman started to slide off his little square pants. "Wh-what are you doing?" he said.

"Anything," he said, echoing SpongeBob's promise, "… that I want."

Next came the underwear. The Dutchman pulled them off and cast them aside, exposing SpongeBob's porous yellow ass. SpongeBob shivered as he felt the air hit him where it normally did not. "You feel a draft?" he said nervously.

But the Flying Dutchman was too busy preparing to bang for small talk. He took his long, jagged, rickets-affected finger and poked it inside SpongeBob's tiny pucker hole.

SpongeBob squealed like a little piggy. "That's a private area!" said SpongeBob.

"Don't you want your friend's soul back?"

"You mean if I do this, you'll let Patrick live?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

"COOL BEANS! That's greeeeEEEEEEEE!" SpongeBob shrieked as a second finger was inserted into his little balloon knot.

The Flying Dutchman bobbed his fingers up and down. SpongeBob was so small there wasn't much room to move them around. He squeaked in pain as the bony digits prodded and scraped inside him.

The Dutchman slid them out and reached into his soul bag.

"Oh, thank Neptune," said SpongeBob as he breathed a sigh of relief. "It's all over."

The Flying Dutchman grabbed Patrick's soul. He held over SpongeBob's little chocolate entrance and squeezed. It dripped down his asscrack and the Dutchman's hands. "Soul juice makes great lube," said the Dutchman.

"What's lube?" said SpongeBob.

The Dutchman put the soul back in his soul bag. Then he reached for his ghostly fly and unzipped. Pants come off easy when you don't have legs. He slid whatever he wears down there off, revealing his glowing, erect ghost member.

SpongeBob was turned away, still on his stomach on Patrick's lifeless body, so he didn't see the Dutchman bring his throbbing, green manhood closer and closer. He let the tip tease SpongeBob's entrance, grazing it with his uncircumcised penis (he's from like 1700's Europe, I got to keep this accurate) but not putting it in. SpongeBob giggled at the sensation. "This isn't so bad," he thought.

Then the Dutchman gripped the base of his veiny cock for leverage and slid it in SpongeBob's tight, soul juiced hole. The Flying Dutchman grunted in pleasure. He barely even fit in the tiny sponge. The pressure against his cock was incredible. Only about three eighths of his dick would slide in, as that was deep as SpongeBob's exit-turned-entrance was.

SpongeBob cried out in extreme pain. He'd never had a giant ghost penis penetrate him before. Or any kind of penis actually.

The Dutchman pulled back and slammed in again. And again and again, aligning with SpongeBob's squeals of pain. SpongeBob dug his nails into Patrick's corpsy body as he held on. The Flying Dutchman started to go even faster. He held SpongeBob's waist, pulling him into each of the thrusts. SpongeBob gripped harder at Patrick as the pain increased. He bit down at the pink flesh to keep from crying out like the pillow-biter he was.

The Dutchman didn't have lungs anymore since he was ghost, so he didn't have to catch his breath. There was no stop-and-go, it was just constant furious humping. Anal blood started to seep from SpongeBob's tight but not-as-tight-as-before hole. The red fluid trickled down SpongeBob's square ass cheek. The Dutchman didn't even notice his bloody cock wasn't just wet from sweat, pre-cum, and soul juices anymore.

Suddenly, as the Dutchman maintained his hard, quick rectal pounding, SpongeBob felt something strange. He was in intense pain, sure. His lower bowels were literally being torn asunder by a plundering phantom penis, physically ripping his sphincter and rectum to a bloody, sticky mess. But there was a spot that the specter's schlong kept hitting that was like a burst of pleasure. SpongeBob didn't understand it since he didn't understand anything at all that was happening but he liked it.

"Right, there, right, there," he panted in time with the thrusts.

The Dutchman knew he'd hit SpongeBob's prostrate. "Oh, you like it when I get right here, do ye?" He pushed extra hard into it.

SpongeBob's whole body tensed. He squeezed hard at Patrick's dead body cushion again. "YEAH, YEAH!"

"TOO BAD!" The Dutchman intentionally pulled his cock away. He slid it out and let it rest a moment on SpongeBob's spongey ass. He didn't want SpongeBob to enjoy a second of this.

SpongeBob whimpered. He let his eyes dilate into puppy dog eyes. It didn't have an effect on the Flying Dutchman. He flipped SpongeBob over. He forced him to sit up on his sore, bleeding ass. SpongeBob bit his lip in pain.

"No, open up," said the Flying Dutchman.

"Open what up?" said SpongeBob. His answer was the Dutchman's huge, ghoulish dick shoved in his mouth. SpongeBob gagged for a moment before starting to breathe through his nose. The Dutchman grew impatient with SpongeBob's lack of sucking so he pushed his cock deep into SpongeBob's throat.

SpongeBob choked and gripped at his neck. His eyes watered as he gasped for air. "Mmmm mmm!" he said as he cock-choked.

"Suck it!" said the Flying Dutchman.

SpongeBob caught his breath so his lungs could prepare for dick sucking. He cupped the salty-tasting organ with his tongue. He let it roll over the tip and shaft, feeling the individual veins throbbing with the sensation. Ghosts are very veiny.

The Flying Dutchman placed his hand on the back of SpongeBob's square head and pushed him deeper into his erection. SpongeBob pulled back and the Dutchman pushed into it again. "Keep doing that," said the Dutchman.

So SpongeBob obeyed and bobbed his mouth up and down the pulsing, glowing ghost penis. It was an awful taste in his mouth. It was a mix of unwashed dick, blood, sweat, pre-cum, and soul juices. Not just any soul juices either, but his best friend's soul juices. Patrick's soul juices. His dead companion reduced to mere lube (and a pillow!) for such a disgusting act.

Suddenly SpongeBob felt the Flying Dutchman tense. His back arched a bit and he grunted. Then SpongeBob choked again as a flood of warm, sticky liquid filled his mouth. He gagged and pulled his head away. Dripping threads of cum trailed from his mouth back up to the Dutchman's tingling member. SpongeBob wiped it away with his hand.

The Flying Dutchman sighed with pleasure. "It's been over 200 years since I plundered booty like that."

"Now can you give me back my friend's soul?" said SpongeBob as he rubbed his sore asshole.

"Huh? Oh, sure, here you go." The Flying Dutchman tossed it at Patrick. "Well, I best be going."

"WAIT!" said SpongeBob. "I don't understand! What just happened? What did you do to me? Is it COOL? Do the cool kids do it? How did you even touch me if you're ghost? Shouldn't you go right through me?"

"I have sexy ghost powers," said the Flying Dutchman.

"But what about-"

"Sexy ghost powers!"

"Oh. Will I ever see you again?" said SpongeBob, who apparently gets over being raped pretty fast.

"Sure," said the Flying Dutchman. "When you DIE." The swirling clouds appeared again. "Or maybe sooner if I feel like doing this again. After all, lemons prevent scurvy!"

"Huh?" said SpongeBob who did not get the joke.

"Hahahahaha!" the Dutchman laughed evilly. Then he disappeared into his ghostly clouds.

Suddenly Patrick stirred. He groaned and held his head.

"OH PATRICK!" said SpongeBob as he raced to his side. "You're alive! My sleepover's not ruined after all!"

"My head hurts."

SpongeBob squeezed his friend with a hug. "I'm so happy you're not dead!"

"Why does it smell like rape in here?"

I'll just stop there since the banging is over and that's all you read this for. If I could trouble you to pull your hand out of your pants long enough to write a review that'd be really cool beans. If you read this and don't review I'll assume you were too busy finishing yourself off and didn't want your keyboard to smell like your nether regions. I may or may not write more to this.


End file.
